


Maybe Just Once

by Sukila



Series: Breath of the Wild AU Stories [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (Memories happen in different orders and Link and Zelda talk), (sort of. it won't be a main theme until the sequel), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, I'm Bad At Tagging, Oops did I mention I'm already writing a sequel?, Selectively Mute Link, Trans Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 09:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukila/pseuds/Sukila
Summary: They're so similar when he thinks about it, each put on a path and a pedestal in fulfilling the expectations of their families. He doesn't blame her for her frustration, those times he's left with the consequences or in stifling silence; yet she might. With so many shared problems it may soon become apparent that all is not as it seems and revealing one's emotions is not weakness, that, for once, they could face together what they could never apart, self-doubt.In which Link and Zelda actually tell each other stuff and actually have a good relationship BEFORE the Calamity.





	Maybe Just Once

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm bad at chapter splitting and it's one of my shorter works I made it all one chapter but let me know if that's a bad idea. This is one of the many things distracting me from Stability and RIR along with a fic I plan on posting once it reaches a fair point (and I've been working on for two years now, can you believe it?)

“Hero of Hyrule, chosen by the sword that seals the darkness…

You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in the face of darkness and adversity.

And have proven yourself worthy of the blessings of the Goddess Hylia.

Whether skyward bound, adrift in time, or steeped in the glowing embers of twilight…

The sacred blade is forever bound to the soul of the Hero.

We pray for your protection… and we hope that—that the two of you will grow stronger together, as one.

 

Forged in the long-distant past, the sword that seals the darkness…

Guardian of Hyrule, ancient steel, forever bound to the hero.

In the name of Goddess Hylia, I bless you and your chosen hero.

Over the seas of time and distance, when we need the golden power of the Goddess…

Our hope rests in you, to be forever by the hero's side.

Again we pray…that the two of you will grow stronger…and be together as one.”

 

-

 

It wasn’t the ache in his legs, the hitch in her throat, nor the cold in his body despite the heated afternoon but a deep weight in his chest that really bothered him. Blonde hair fell over his eyes in a thankful way as it kept their gazes from mistakenly meeting when graduation day had arrived and hid away the sorrow he felt as fulfillment of his father’s dream came about and tried his damndest to replace it with pride. To make it hard to spot jealous glances of those once called brothers-in-arms, the lack of friendly smiles or parents to be proud, still, he couldn’t exactly escape his own doubt. That darkness caught in himself that sealed lips shut and gave him a burden the day they’d found the birthmark he’d hidden away to keep away the curious looks that would now never dissipate so long as he wore the bright blue of a champion; they’d even grown worse, he thinks.

 

Speaking of those blues and their wearers...their whispers weren’t well concealed and the clear ringing of Revali’s doubt only served to add weight to this burden of his… The others were the same, in a way:

Urbosa wanted him to carry Zelda’s burden as best he could (he understood though, because she loved her so deeply and it hurt to see her run herself ragged).

Daruk wanted him to fulfill a role, a legend (he understood though, because it gave him hope and he probably thought it’d give Link some too).

Mipha wanted him to live despite knowing his role meant putting Zelda above everything (he understood though, because she actually seemed to care for him even if he didn’t understand why).

Revali wanted to be a hero, to call the legends worthless and ensure survival himself (he understood that best of all, considering how lousy he was at being one; how he was only validated in his role based on a marked hand and some ‘blessed blade’).

 

It made him want to apologise for how he was born at almost every moment since, when she’d scream at him, when she’d be reduced to begging just behind his back for the goddess to listen and he could never dare intrude, when he stared at the floor and listened to the king’s stern words that almost made him want to cry for both her and the memories of his own father that haunted him; because he still wasn’t sure if he missed him deeply or was glad he was gone no matter how much he debated it. He wanted to tell her they were the same, that he was sorry, that she was trying so hard, but also...that he was tired, scared, and sad all in one. Endless nights at campfires spent watching over her and being stuck with his own thoughts and chastising away fatigue as he chased after her when she snuck away because he had to.

 

Link could remember but one time he’d never gone after her. He’d fallen ill, left in waking nightmares of hallucinations and horrid fever dreams between vomit, blurriness, and shame. She’d been forbidden but it had never stopped her, out from under the collective gazes of the castle-dwellers she’d run at the chance and investigated by her lonesome. Zelda had come back hours after dark, covered in mud and rainwater, hands covered in little marks, and a complete refusal to divulge details besides the smile that would not leave her face until…

 

A sickly boy still wearing the same old blue that could hardly keep himself still from the shivers, tears in his eyes just barely held in as he nursed the bruises on his face and welts on his arms; he sat in the storm ravaging the courtyard against a locked door. He could scarcely recall the drag of cloth on his hair so unlike the previous pulling, hastily gifted cotton garb dry and no longer clinging to pained skin, and the warmth of a fire as someone threw a thick blanket over him. The soft hands on his face that brushed away tears and murmured words of apology, he’d blushed when he’d reached out for them instinctively, drawing his hand back to his chest without another word; but they’d taken it and given it a squeeze before sitting beside him; he still woke up alone but, somehow, he’d been certain it had been her.

 

That certainty had faded the next time she ran off but he understood either way, still recalling the smile before it slipped from her face; if he could have chosen not to follow...if. Instead, it had been a quiet approach, it felt wrong, to not make his presence known, but if it could grant her that precious time she’d craved despite the consequences then...who was he to ruin it? Going over the memories it seemed no haven was left for her, he recalled listening to her lament over those hours of prayer and study, the terrified citizens that called her an heir to nothing simply because, despite her efforts, the sealing powers had yet to be seen.

 

-

 

She’d asked him, once, if he could hear the voice within the sword that seals the darkness, wield it like the hero from so long ago; for a long time they stood silent until the slow shake of his head, full of shameful blushes and the prickling of tears at his uselessness; it almost seemed to spark something in her. Zelda would look on wistfully not too long after, letting an inquiry simmer until the rain came about and they were finally forced to stay put; he didn’t though, too much to be done.

 

“Your path seems to mirror your father’s. You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a knight as well,” He didn’t want to think of it anymore but...she would speak her peace regardless (it wasn’t as though he could protest anyway), “Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable.”

 

He wished he could say she’d done so much more but the blade was already halfway through motions and stopping the drill now was not an option. He took a breath as he finished, face red and breath coming in pants, in reality, he probably shouldn’t be practicing in the rain but…

 

“I see now why you would be the chosen one,” He wished her could ask her why; he’d never figured it out, “What if… One day…” He looked back but kept his eyes low, face blank, “You realised you just weren’t meant to be a fighter-”

 

_“Father…! Can I go tend to the horses? I wanna visit little Epi!”_

 

_“We have work to do, son.”_

 

_“But...Maren taught me how to do the braiding, and-”_

 

“-Yet the only thing people ever said...was that you were born into a family of royal guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight-”

 

_“You have a legacy to follow, son. Like all of us have, you will fight for Hyrule; now, no more questions about that place.”_

 

“-If it was the only thing you were ever told...I wonder, then...would you have chosen a different path?”

 

_“The sword that seals the darkness. It is yours now.”_

 

“Maybe if I’d had a choice…” His hands flew to his mouth in surprise and despite his hopes it was all too obvious she’d heard the subtle murmur in all its mispronunciation as they caught each other's eyes and he flushed as she seemed to stare for a long while, lost in thought even as he turned away and signed his apology without thinking.

 

-

 

Oftentimes their personalities seemed to clash, though it was, in a way, almost practiced. She knew, by now, there were heavy consequences for any mishaps, after all, they couldn’t exactly demote the ‘Chosen Knight.’ Really, it was more her father’s word against her own but he still admired her between those bold escapes even as it ran him and Epi ragged following her and Morrow. Oftentimes it left him whispering silent apologies and spoiling the mare a bit, feeling awful for such harsh treatment of his old friend’s last gift to him; still, he thinks Maren would be happy he’s given her so much love.

 

They’d headed towards the desert this time, the paths less easy than most and the sand making horseback impossible; funny, despite this he’d always liked the harsh climate regardless. He’d forgotten what it was this time, a checkover, adjustments, further inquiries, they made the trip often, a sense of eagerness constantly resonating from the normally unhappy target of protection. There was no biting calls of spiteful annoyance, the aggravated demands to keep behind her and out of sight that bring upon a bad impression and, thus, were reserved for quiet moments like these. It was his own fault, really, she just couldn’t be peaceful when he drew too near, a sentiment the more observant of the town seemed to share; just one more reason to grow out his hair...

 

Link felt his vision swim for a moment, forearm reaching to brush away the sweat only for heated skin disturbed by the sun to be further bothered by the rough scratch of his armguard. He hid the slight hitch in his breathing and the way they turned heavy as best he could, donning a face of stone that sat firm, even muffling the surprise whenever she’d glance back without warning nor reason. The bangles on her wrist giving a light sound, sapphire catching the light as her arms stilled with the rest of her for the hesitant motion.

 

“Are you not…uncomfortable? In the heat, I mean...” It was easy for him to tell it was hard to say, a simple rebuttal seemed too insensitive but with little else to say he ended up rubbing one arm self-consciously, caught in a blush with nothing to say.

 

Zelda held an almost smug look for a moment, as though there was something satisfying in catching him off guard enough to look such a way. Even odder came the offering before him, the smile back in its place like she’d decided it was alright to gloat, in her hand was...earrings. They glimmered like her bands in the light and he couldn’t help the shock as it slipped through, couldn’t help seeing the slight glimmer of sympathy that had never been present before...why? So many trips to this heated place so unlike their home it was almost another world, so many times she’d uncaringly trudged forwards, never once looking back and carrying herself in exaggerated poise as if to prove a point he already knew; she could take care of herself, he knew; he was the one who was lost.

 

That sandstorm, brief and terrifying, the slicing of harsh winds carrying the mineral and slapping it against bare skin. It had swept up past where it should have, an event so unexpected, something he’d never experienced before. He could still recall watching his vision become shorter and shorter, the reach of his hand out to her as she stared at him with an odd look. He could remember the hopelessness he felt as she scrambled out of reach, his own scream in the darkness that carried across all the hours and drew a greater hoarseness from an already neglected throat. He’d fallen in the sand in exhaustion sometime, devoid of energy and tired from shaking and the endless trudging in aimless circles; he must have nearly suffocated that day. He didn’t resent the desert for straining his sanity, he had known the elements to be harsh yet grew too comfortable in their route; besides, it would be hard to hate a climate he had such an attachment to, ever fascinated by its culture and always grateful the harsh temperature scarcely allowed for camping. He didn’t resent Zelda for leaving, his sense of direction was often spot-on but the elements certainly changed that, if she thought those few moments would’ve saved her from the hours of grief it was well thought, he wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone; and she had come back for him...he knew that much.

 

That same blurry figure prying his hands off his ears and wiping the sand from his face, washing off the dried mess of tears and holding firmly even as the shivers resurfaced. Little murmurs of apology, the slight sounds of shushing, his own hitched breath through quiet sobs, a hand holding his just like before, and the whispers of reassurance, about searching, about worrying, about regrets. When he’d awoken that time he was alone just like in the past only to hear the soft exhales and spotted her figure asleep at a desk and, despite himself, felt the quirk of his lips as he settled into rest once more.

 

He was drawn out of the memory by the touch of her hand and the soft drop of the offered items in his hand, hers closing his fingers around them before hesitating, donning a contemplative look for a few moments. She scooped up the accessories and he almost thought she meant to withdraw the offer from lack of thankfulness before feeling the soft touch from behind. In an unpracticed but careful gesture, his blue rings exchanged for the cooling touch of magic and touch of extra weight from the metal clasp; thus, any thoughts he may have had previous about her knowledge of his culture were lost, the intimacy of the gesture far greater than a simple gesture. Though, despite his blush, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her, nor end the gentle sweep of her hand through his hair as she seemed to spare of moment to forget the strain of their relationship and simply allowed each to relish in a more simple company, something far and few between in current times. Yet for hours after he’d wonder why, after all, she’d been on the trip to meet someone dear to her, why bother with someone she held such a grudge against? His thoughts were flooded with confusion at every moment they knowingly traveled together.

 

-

 

It was his fault. She’d asked him not to come and he could hear the tone she used, one he dared not trespass against in its gentle sadness, completely lacking the usual anger, truly, outside his duties, he remained wrapped around her finger, didn’t he? Urbosa had shot him a knowing look after their exchange and given a quick order to see the sights, make his pass worth informing the guard, shouting in an after thought to pull out his hair tie. He followed to order swiftly, pulling at the band and feeling the fall of hair onto his neck, it was stifling and soon to be soaked in sweat but for the first time in a long time he was alone. No objective to reach, person to follow, and most importantly, no one to tell either off, it was like drifting in a sea after hours spent sailing strictly north; he tried his best not to lose himself in the freedom but...he _loved_ the desert.

 

Time ran down faster than the wick of a candle, that same flame being the passion within himself, hair tied high in a more ornate band, little braids scattered throughout from some of the kinder women after the children had made a bird’s nest out of it. The earrings jingled, metal clinking in the wind as he held the reins of the seal, the sand easily sliding beneath the recently acquired shield. He smiled, fingers clasping the side and body moving into a crouch as he hopped and urged the animal to go quicker, shifting to lead them back and grimacing a little as he raised a hand against the sandy backlash, letting it shift into a smile soon after.

 

“Nice, little vai!” The flash of a blush from the clapping audience and a silent chuckle as he rubbed his neck self-consciously, “I didn’t think a Hylian could be that good at this but you’re a real natural!” The red spread to his neck, her hand clapping him on a bare shoulder, hours of watching in awe and wanting suddenly faded into an odd sort of pride, one hand clasped to his chest from the rush of new air. They retreated to escape the afternoon heat soon enough, parting with a short wave and ruffled, blonde hair to accompany an almost parental look by the Gerudo as she watched the Hylian practically skip off, looking completely at home in the clothing of the desert.

 

This same feeling carried through as instrumentals carried through the town, the little Hylian not appearing the slightest bit lost, if not a little out of place, as she weaved about to the music. She’d take the hands of others and be led however her partner dared, occasionally encouraging others to join by pulling at their hands and letting out silent giggles that made a few blush. But most importantly, she...glowed, a bright smile reflecting the sun and nearly drowning it out in comparison; the illusion was only shattered by the fall of night. All at once she stopped short, looking first to her hands then upwards and back to the ground with a look of horror etched onto her features and sprinted from the grounds without a sound.

 

-

 

He was so stupid. A thought sticking in his mind like the terrifying sludge of near-wakefulness and a muddled sense of disbelief at his own foolishness that stuck as dark as the night, carrying the unpleasant scent of unease. Thus, the race began against the sun, the sand coating footfalls but the refusal to be dragged down empowering in the way a sudden strength to fight his way forward was birthed. In a way it was unexplainable, completely uncanny, even, but as his heart raced out of a different reason for tiredness there was little time to consider the movement speed and break free of frustration and panic’s stifling hold on his thoughts. Find Urbosa, find Zelda, she’ll be there, it’ll be fine. He doesn’t remember when he changed but knows the familiar presence of shame and fear from the swath of blue on his chest marking him as a champion. It’s all brushed aside in the same sweaty panic, to the point where he half expects the marking on his hand to wash off (half wants it to, not that he’ll ever say it).

 

But Urbosa is there, alone, citing the words of a sleepy girl’s return to town and he’s bolted, throwing her the shield if only to go faster and silence the constant clunk against the sheath of his back. A scene out of his nightmares outside the whispered words that remain in his mind in this case, words of disappointment, of pointing out the failure he’s becoming, of chastising time spent in bliss; the Yiga Clan is here.

 

He rushes in without a moment of hesitation, brief thoughts of strategy popping up in little bursts between adrenaline before the sharp clang of metal on metal sounds, a hook caught on the sealing sword. He swings in a quick arc to keep the clansman back, flipping back to avoid the thrust of their own hooked weapon. A slight shimmer of sparks appears as the blades catch, pressure building to prevent being disarmed until he is victorious in wrenching away their only method of defense and hearing the subtle curse under their breath. A puff of smoke signals the rapid disappearance, matching the huffs of breath Link finds himself desperately drawing in and out as Zelda peers at him with that same look from back when he’d told her about the sword’s voice, and puts her arm under his as a method of support.

 

Only then did he realise how odd he must look, a breastband-like shirt visible beneath his tunic, boots barely fitting over puffier pants, and a pair of flats attached to his belt, hair still in the higher tail and held by a golden bangle like those on his arms, the silver in each ear. There just hadn’t been much time to do anything more than pull on more suitable footwear and the blue of the champions; his already red face easily marking his fatigue and haste. But her look is one of kindness at second glance, hints of sympathy peaking back through a sad smile that sticks with her until the moon finally rises and they’re settling down for the night. He gestures that she should speak her mind but she hesitates, worrying over her lower lips and having to try to start several times if her peaks of breath were any indicator, he could tell it was difficult for her to say.

 

“Tell me...knight, why are you so silent all the time?” He can’t help but look shocked, meaning to gesture away from the touchy subject but suddenly interrupted as she presses on, “I do not mean to be pushy but...I’ve appreciated what little input you’ve given on your past and...I would...like to hear your opinions more often; if it’s something about status then-”

 

“No,” He finally says, flushing deeply, “I just…” The hesitation is evident then, same as her own apprehension as he draws forth the buried feelings in hopes of, maybe, finally stating the whole truth of the matter, and then, with a steady breath, he looked forwards and away from her face and tried to imagine he was speaking to her grave instead, “With all those eyes upon me...I thought it best to bear the burden in silence, for the sake of those around us…”

 

“Oh, I...I see.” Truly, it was a sentiment she understood all too well, yet a luxury she herself could never afford whilst under the heavy burdening gaze of both her father and country, “That must be difficult…”

 

“I only want...to look the part, really…” The ‘I never asked for this’ was left unsaid but clear with the indication he thought himself no hero and the youth and disuse of words showing through in vocal cracks and fidgeting. He turned further, curling up to the wall with his arms around his knees, a slight wetness just barely noticeable in his eyes from both the pain and raw emotion. Neither really knew why she walked towards him, nor why she pulled him closer and against her like all the other times, the only absence being the shivering as he felt her firm embrace and recognised it from all the times previous.

 

Another difference left was her own tears burning through in the same purity of his own, ugly but truthful as she said the only things really necessary this time around, “I’m sorry...Link.”

 

Then it was the same, shakes, sobs, and little words, “Me too...Zelda.”

 

They looked at each other for a few moments, overwhelmed by the shared presence in the same old sorrow, his own body reciprocating the tightly bound arms as blue stared into green and each saw a mutual understanding of pain as the questions they’d been holding and all the pain held in was finally to be released.

 

“What would you be...if not a knight?”

 

He smiled, “A stableman, maybe...I’ve always liked horses,” She laughed at how fitting it seemed, all those times she’d watched him with his Epi, “And you?”

 

“A researcher...it may not be obvious but...ancient technology fascinates me.” It was said now, finally, and despite there being more...she just wanted to know him now, to know the person who knew her aches and carried his own; the person she used to hate and had treated unfairly yet held no such feeling for her, “What is...what’s your favourite colour?”

 

That’s when he knew she would be a true friend, “I used to prefer the green of the forests, now I think I prefer red.” One matched what he knew, the familiar eyes before him and fields of home, the other an adventure always encouraged by happy faces.

 

“I like blue...a deep blue like the sea.” It went unsaid that it matched the bright eyes before her, “But red...is my favourite too.” It was obvious who it referred to that time, her relishing more in people rather than places.

 

A hint of mischief in her eyes was his only warning, “Link, I heard many people ask about the whereabouts of a certain...Hylian woman, blonde-” She glanced up and down at him, making him squirm, “-would you happen to…?”

 

The flush was near instant as he drew his hands to his chest and fidgeted, “I...ah, really like the desert, when I was younger...I even wanted to...um…” He mumbled the rest.

 

“Hmm? What was that, Sir Link?”

 

“I wanted to be a girl, okay?!” He squeaked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away, at the lack of response it was shame he blushed with, beginning to pull the band from his hair before a hand on his arm stopped him, a knowing look accompanying it, “Just...while I’m here, the ones that recognise me...call me Hylia…I’m not stupid...I know what- what ‘vai’ means, I know that I have the right to come and go but I wanted to...be a part of it, that’s all.”

 

It was a sympathetic smile she gave then, guiding his arms to remove the cyan tunic as she changed the subject, his own arms struggling with it in his embarrassment, “How did your father treat you? I know he’s...gone now but…”

 

He grimaced, drawing into on himself but was soothed by the hand in his hair, carefully pulling it loose and combing through it, “I had a friend named Maren...she’d teach me how to style the manes and tails, Epi was _her_ horse, and her last gift to me; I haven’t seen her in years…”

 

“‘Last gift?’”

 

“My father told me no more distractions, we had left Castletown for training and he wasn’t happy about my lack of focus...we left the next day and she sent Epi after us, I couldn’t care for her as much as I would have liked to but...it was the only way she’d get to stay with me. I’ve never really been sure about how I feel about him…”

 

She seems to understand well, “My father is...fearful, I think, my whole life has been training...but I have nothing to show for it. Soon, Lanayru will be my last hope.”

 

“I...I think you’re wrong,” Part of her burned in anger at the dismissal, the other sighing in sadness, “It’s just that...well, training all my life may have made me good at what I do but, ah, I really don’t have any passion for it.”

 

Blue eyes seemed to take on a glimmer then, “Not like when I’m here, having fun, or with Epi. Maybe your power is like that...you need to _want_ something and...your sealing powers have to be the key to it.” Each seemed to be shocked at the words, with one leaning forwards in interest and the other turning red, “I- I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from…”

 

Zelda only put her hand up then as if to signal the quiet that followed, that same absent appearance he’d taken on only a few moments ago present in her empty gaze. He couldn’t have known what she was thinking yet, in that moment, he felt as though he did, each hand reaching out for the other, left intertwined with right as though a destiny had suddenly been realised. That night, neither slept alone, too haunted by the previous darkness’ absence to ever go back to such a life; the presence of one more breath and a close body making all the difference. It was in that darkness a soft glow came about, casting a brilliant light that drew eyes open into a waking dream.

 

And one said, “I know it’s been hard for you,” Still dressed in the woman’s clothing of the desert that made him finally feel like he belonged, a blue tunic, sacred sword, and destiny out of sight and mind, for once.

 

And the other, “I won’t leave you behind again, I promise,” Still holding firmly onto the offered understanding just like the hand of the one beside her, finally able to sleep peacefully with her own doubts out of sight and mind, for once.

 

It was in that moment both knew, in that dream they shared when they woke up entangled with tears spotted in each eye, everything was going to be okay; that their paths no longer led to misery and she held the sanctuary they needed. That maybe, just maybe, they were each worth more than they’d thought so long as a friend could prove it to them.


End file.
